Consulting Extraterrestrials
by SuckMyDeck
Summary: When a foreign boy group known as Exo make their appearance in London, and a strange murder takes place, it's up to Sherlock to get to the bottom of things. But he'll soon find out, that logic can't solve every problem, and there are some things in this world that are just way too extraterrestrial to deduce. [This is a bit of a crossover/combo/mesh thing. Exo and Sherlock.]


_Fists flying mixed with blood splatters were the only thing seen. Unbelievably enough, the mans face was still legible, even through the cuts, bruising and now, swollen gropes of flesh that covered his features. It wasn't until Suho reached out, taking sudden, firm hold of D.O.'s wrist, that the man came back to lucidity. Blurred vision focusing about his surroundings._  
_"That's enough.", Suho practically whispered. The tone mores menacing that usual. "I'm certain he's had enough."_

_Almost pouting, D.O. gave a small growl in the direction of the victim, laying just below him. Obviously, he was against having to stop. Against having to end his assault, because, if honesty was a part of any of this; one thing was sure- D.O. was starting to enjoy himself. However, being ordered to do differently, he dismounted the stranger, leaving him curl into himself._

_The pain was inexplicable, and the bleeding was even worse. "I definitely have a broken nose... Possible fractured, even broken jaw. Three broken ribs.. No telling how long I'll have to be in the hospital for the leg..." The deduction came fast, and accurately. And for the first time in his life, Sherlock Holmes, had been stopped, with nothing but brute force, punches and kicks. The worst part was? He expected none of it. _  
-

Another dull day in 221b lead Sherlock to his usual aiming fit at the spray painted smile on the east side of the flat's wall. Not that the wall wasn't asking for it, but there's only so much the foundations of an old London home can take. After about two hours of flying limbs, jumping about, and gunshots- one frightened, and enraged Mrs. Hudson had come up, demanding Holmes stop the display of unnecessary behavior. To no avail, however. For the elderly landlady had to take leave to the shops, in order to restock her fridge. Leaving her words, in an overall state of bliss, and feign ignorance, the assault did not cease. With John at work, and no word from Lestrade, as of late, in nature of cases, the consulting detective found himself in quite the situation. One of intolerable dullness, boredom, and sheer repulsive tedious action. It wasn't long before the clip of which he carried ran fresh out of ammo, leaving Sherlock with only the empty cartridge clipped and locked at the butt of the gun.

With a huff, he tossed the gun aside. Landing on the rugged floor below, it bounced, and slid somewhere under the recliner across the room. It wasn't as though he gave a rats arse about the gun; it was John's anyway. Finally reclaiming his spot on the red leather chair, nearest the fireplace, Sherlock's galaxy colored eyes fell onto the mere air in front of him. Didn't take long for him to notice the fact that he wasn't moving either, before soon enough, he was fidgeting in the chair. Palms smacking the stretched leather, feet rising and falling onto the edge of the seat. Nothing to do, and even less to think about; bad news for brain-work, and even worse news for the man.

One quick movement, with the help of his impatience, and the extra kick of his anxiousness to do something, got up, making his way over to the table. Scooping up his phone, one sweeping finger across unlocked it, followed by an array of slight finger movements. The familiar tone of a text being sent would soon fill the room. Bringing his phone back with him to the seat, Sherlock sunk into the red; his skinny frame practically being engulfed by the cushion. He was about to groan out loud, before the ping of a text arriving, shocked him back to reality. Sight falling immediately to his phone, he read over the message.

No. Haven't heard from Lestrade all day. Why? Something happen? -JW

As quick as the reply came, Sherlock's answer went.

Bored. -SH

I'm at work. Call Lestrade yourself, if you're so desperate for a case. -JW

A revelation of types struck Sherlock then; John clearly wasn't going to be any help in the dilemma. Making sure to keep this in mind, as well as the fact that John was so rude about it, for about the 80th time, the man decided to take a look through the paper. Nothing new, nonetheless. Sales, some murderer was caught (by Sherlock, nonetheless) about 2 days a go. He was going on trial today, according to the headlines. Obviously, he would be found guilty, and serve his 20 to life. More sales, some concert by a foreign boy group. Nothing out of the ordinary. All plain. All dull. All tediously pointless.

It was another tiring day for the boys. Rehearsal, practice, vocals, dressing; They never would've guessed they'd be quite so popular in London. Especially considering they were only just coming up in their own respective countries. But nonetheless, here they were, being fangirled over just as hard as they would have been if they were back home. Exhaustive, really. When one takes a minute to think about it. Not to mention, the ever so constant, dangerous struggle to keep the little secret, of these twelve, godly looking men, between only themselves.

"Oui, Suho." Kris bellowed from across the practice stage, the low octaves of his voice making it sound like more of a dull roar. Suho, whom was discussing something with Tao and Chanyeol, turned, halfheartedly to face the figure head of their group. "Kris?" His tone was a bit... off. Much more dismissive than usual. Motioning for Suho to come closer, Kris made his way towards stage right. Suho trailed behind.  
"What's the problem?" the younger leader inquired, a white towel coming to lay about the back of his neck. Sweat ran down from what felt like hours of brutal practice. Honestly, if there was anyone who was dedicated to getting Exo to the top, to making them world renown, it was Suho. "We should probably get back to practice. We only have 6 more hours before the concert. We need to be ready.."

Taking note of Suho's words, Kris nodded, before turning to face him, a fresh, cooled bottle of water in his hand. "Are you kidding me, Suho? We've been at it for 4 and a half hours now. Poor Xiumin looks like he's about to keel over." Giving a light nod of the head at the oldest member, Kris sighed.

Xiumin-hyung looked as though he was about to pass out where he stood. Sweating profusely, and eyes drooping. It didn't help much that they had to wake up at 4 this morning, to get costumes picked, ready, and fit. Then there was the lyrics review, lip syncing, and the dance steps. It had tendency to become too much at times.

"I think we need to stop practicing." Kris repeated, his tone much more demanding, than soft now. "I'm not going to see our group get sick from over work. We're more than ready for the concert. Let's take a break, and get back to it after some food and rest."

Suho was clearly against this decision, but Kris was hearing none of it. Without waiting for confirmation from Suho, he pushed his way by the shorter male, making his way, center stage. After giving the rest of the group the okay to take their leave, as most of them did, Kris turned back to face Suho. The eerie silence, and their staring was interrupted by the almost righteous battle cry Xiumin gave upon hearing the words 'lunch' and 'rest' in the same sentence. It wasn't long before the remainder of the group exited the stage (none of them questioning the now obvious feud between Suho and Kris), leaving only Tao, Chanyeol, Kris and Suho on stage. If looks could kill... If not for Chanyeol making his way over to Suho, and pulling him backstage completely, that the undermined leader would have burned holes in Kris from just staring alone.

Tao, who noticed Suho and Chanyeol-hyung making their way backstage, took the opportunity of alone, to rush over to Kris. Taking quick hold of the taller male's hand, he leaned up, kissing his cheek. This brought Kris out of his dazed mindset completely, his eyes turning to face the blonde. "What's wrong?"

A pout crossed his features, before he gave a childish huff. "Nothing.. I just wanted to give you a kiss." With that, a chuckle escaped Kris, and he leaned down, gently placing his lips, to Tao's supple own. He loved the way Tao always tasted. Sweet, yet bitter. Much like their relationship at times. Though, they couldn't just make out on the practice stage. Besides that, it was time for lunch, and a rest. Reluctantly, Kris pulled away, leaving one, close-eyed Tao, tip toeing to the space in front of him on stage, awaiting another kiss from his boyfriend that never seemed to come. For, Kris was making his way off stage, to join the other members who were on their way to the trailer for some lunch, and possibly a nap.

By the time Tao opened his eyes, he looked around. Realizing he was finally alone, he turned to face the direction Chanyeol and Suho had walked. Taking light, quickened steps, he made a half jog towards back stage. Tonight was a big night. Important plans. Crucial events. Many things needed to be discussed...


End file.
